XIII.

 

 

MARKET STALLS LINED THE forum, selling every ware imaginable under the sun. Aurelia skipped along beside me, one hand in mine and the other holding the present she wished to bestow. I had told her it was not necessary but she insisted, her small face becoming mulish when I pressed her.

For this journey, I paid little attention to the market and only half to Aurelia. I had need to come to the market for certain items required in our domus, and brought Aurelia for the joy of it. This was the reason for our outing. There was no other. I was not hurrying. I certainly was not eager.

I had also not seen fit to come to this market, to this forum in particular, to see him.

I told myself this and yet I knew it to be false. He had come many times over this last month, but these last two weeks had seen him absent from our door. More than like he had other business, other concerns, and could not waste his days with visits that garnered him naught. These thoughts did not stop me from wishing for his form to cross the threshold of my mother's domus, for Aurelia's delighted cry of 'libertus' to echo our halls. For his almost-smile to lighten my heart.

The market thick with people, I pushed our way through and Aurelia chattered, her hand swinging in mine as she told me of all she meant to tell libertus. I listened with half an ear, focused on pushing through, on fighting the hoards encroaching upon us. Then, as if magic, the crowd parted and cleared a path to where I knew his stall to be and I stopped, so suddenly Aurelia ran into me.

I saw him, and I could not move.

His tunic stripped from his shoulders, his chest bared, he carried a sack to his stall. He passed the sack to the vendor tending his stall. My mouth dried and the ghost of half-remembered fascination tugged at me. He was golden and he was strong, his muscles bunching and rippling with every move.

It may be that I should never have come here.

Aurelia spied him and, with a squeal, raced toward him. Placing his burden down, he turned at her commotion, his harried frown quickly clearing as he saw her. Just as quick, he looked up to find me in the crowd. As our gazes met, his face lit and for that moment, it was as if we were back in my father’s domus and we had never been apart.

Aurelia quickly claimed his attention, however. Released from his gaze and able to move once more, I made my way toward them even as, with flourish and not a little drama, Aurelia bestowed on him her present, an oddly shaped rock she had discovered in our atrium fountain.

He cupped the rock as if it were the finest jewel, polishing it with care before secreting it in his belt. “I thank you, domina. It is a fine gift, and shall have pride of place on my mantle.”

Aurelia beamed, and I could see the adoration she bore this man in her expression.

I should be wary. I should.

He looked at me. “Domina Lucia,” he said, and the way he said my name was like a caress.

A smile pulled at my lips but it was faint, tentative. As small as it might be, he saw it and an answering smile tugged at his mouth.

“This is a worthy business,” I said. In my words were a hundred meanings, a thousand thoughts. I was anxious and happy and tense and I…

He shifted, and I tried not to notice his chest. Sweat from his labours gifted his skin with a golden sheen, lovingly tracing the clearly defined muscle. He was still lean but it was the leanness of labour instead of war, though the scars of his previous occupation marred the beauty of his skin.

“Much gratitude, domina.” He shifted, his hand resting on the fruit. “May I ask what brings you out this day?”

Why could I think of nothing to say? “We came to the market to purchase some items and when Aurelia saw you, we thought to visit.” It was shameful, how much I lied.

Raising a brow, he said nothing. Fiery red painted my cheeks as, too late, I remembered Aurelia’s present and the implication this day’s meet was not chance.

He ignored my colour, though, just as he ignored my flimsy excuse. “I am almost finished here. Will y—” He stopped. “I would be honoured if you would come to my home,” he said, and his words were careful.

I should not. It was beyond inappropriate for me to go. Aurelia, though, was with me. It was not wrong, if my daughter came also.

I nodded, but the action was not strong.

At that moment, Aurelia tugged at his hand. “Am I invited, libertus?”

“Of course.”

“I want my own invitation,” she demanded.

A smile flirted with his mouth. He knew better than to allow it life. “Domina,” he said with great solemnity. “Will you visit with me?”

Like a small queen, Aurelia nodded her acceptance, bestowing her favour and her smile in the same moment. “I will, libertus. Much gratitude to you for your offer.”

“It is my great pleasure, domina.”

Aurelia took such as if it were her due and then turned to the vendor tending the stall, peppering him with questions. The poor man looked bewildered.

The slave—the former slave—the man I used to teach watched her, his smile broad now that Aurelia was distracted. “Your daughter is demanding.”

“Yes. She is a terror.” Smiling, I leaned over to tug Aurelia’s hair.

Pausing in her assault on the vendor, she scowled at me. “Mama. Do not.”

Of course, I did not listen and tugged her hair again.

Her small hand batted at mine. “Mama, do not. I will tell Pullo…Mama!” Her scowl became a giggle, and I laughed as well, even as she tried to tickle me in retribution. As I laughed, I looked to him in invitation join our play.

He stared at me as if he has never before seen me. He looked away, but not before I saw a suspicious shine to his eyes.

I frowned. Soon he turned back, his face clear, and I was left to wonder if I had imagined his emotion. Indeed, his lips curled to a grin and after a few words to the man behind the stall, he led us through the streets.

His home was not far from the markets, a small dwelling ensconced upon a host of other like dwellings. Leading us up stairs, he traversed a small balcony before we reached the entrance to his abode, a stout wooden door guarding his home.

Restless beside me, Aurelia looked back out into the courtyard through which we had just passed. Children played, throwing and catching a round ball, the sounds of their laughter making my daughter itch.

Catching her hand, I squeezed it gently in warning. “Aurelia, stand. You can play later.”

She huffed but she was obedient, standing beside me even as she leant toward the play.

“Domina.” His expression was calm, frank. “If you allow, the children will look out for her. She will come to no harm.”

Uncertain still, I regarded him. Not often did I trust another with Aurelia’s safety.

He smiled, though his eyes were solemn. “I have made certain. Your daughter is precious to me. I would not see her harmed.”

Silent, I weighed his words. He waited, his gaze calm upon mine.

“Aurelia.” She looked at me. “You will remain in libertus's courtyard. You will go no further than the entrance. If you cannot see this domus, you have gone too far. Do you understand?”

“But Mama…”

“Aurelia. Do you understand?”

She sulked. “Yes, Mama.”

“Good.” I knelt to her and opened my arms. She came readily. I rested my cheek upon her hair and then gave her a kiss. “Now go play.”

She ran out of the house, laughing.

He watched her go. “She is so like you.”

Surprised, I looked at him. “She is nothing like me. She is…joyous.”

He turned to me and shook his head, almost rueful. “As were you.” Opening the door, he led me into his home. “And she is like you in that she does not see barriers.”

I did not know what to say, so I said nothing. Instead, I looked around the place in which he lived.

It was barren, his home, with only a table and two chairs in this main living area. A curtain pushed half-closed across the entrance to his bedchamber obscured most of the room, but what little I could see appeared just as barren.

Confused, I seated myself at his table. He was wealthy. I had seen that in the market. His business thrived. Coin had been spent there, improvements made to the structure, and his vendor wore new clothing. His own clothing was of the finest quality, and his hand bore the golden ring of a merchant. But here, in his home, there was nothing to indicate his fortune. No mosaics, no frescos, no slaves—but then, there would not be slaves, would there?

There was also no touch of another. I sat in his home, in this place that obviously did not bear the touch of a woman, and I wondered why. Why was he not married? Why not even a lover? After all this time, after all the things he had been forced to do, surely he would desire the soft comfort of a woman. One he had chosen, and not been forced to attend.

His home—his life—bore only the necessities. It was almost as if he did not expect to stay. Nothing in his life appeared fixed. The market stall was transient. His home, barren.

My heart clenched. He could be gone, so easily.

His kitchen area was little more than a cupboard and a washing sink. He stood before it and ran his hands through his hair before clenching them before him. “Can I— May I offer you some refreshment?”

Forcing my thoughts aside, I frowned. I had never seen him thus. Usually, he was filled with confidence, sometimes too much. Now he was…not.

“Thank you, yes.”

He poured wine and set it before me. “It is not the best, I fear, but it is all I have.”

“I am sure it is sufficient.” It was so strange, to see him thus.

He sat, rubbing his palms against his thighs. Uncertain, I wished I had the gift of conversing easily. My tongue was tied, and I could think of nothing to broach with him.

He watched me as if I might flee at any second. “You are well?”

“Yes.” I laced my hands together. “And you?” I remembered to say.

“Yes.” His hands stilled on his thighs. “Aurelia? She is well?”

My brows drew together. He knew this. Why were we so awkward? “As you saw. She was most anxious to see you.”

“And I her. She is a delight, domina.”

“Yes.”

We lapsed into silence once more.

I should not have come. This was beyond folly. What did I think would come of this? He had sought my company, it was true, but why did I compound this madness by seeking his? This part of my life was over, done, and I would only cause hurt to myself—to Aurelia—should I continue.

I should leave.

“I have a book.”

His words startled me. Seated opposite me, his face was as open as ever I had seen, an eager sort of triumph shaping his features.

“A book?”

“Yes.” He leapt to his feet and exited the room. A ruckus sounded from his bedchamber and then he returned, holding a parchment. He handed it to me and I took it, turning it in my hands. I smiled, a hundred remembrances awakening.

“It is like the ones you had, is it not? I remember the lettering.”

I nodded. “A tale of two-faced Janus. I have not seen its like in an age.”

He frowned. “You have not? You no longer study?”

I stared at the parchment. “My husband did not like me wasting time on such trivialities. It is for priests and acolytes to ponder the words of the gods.” I heard myself speak my former husband’s words and shame filled me.

His eyes were upon me, and I felt the weight of them. The parchment crinkled in my hands as I played with its edge.

Finally, I spoke. “You read?” He did not when I had taught him. I had begun to show him how with short words, our alphabet, but our time together had been too brief.

“Not well.” He was seated now. I kept my gaze on the parchment. “Will you read to me?”

Uncertain once more, I watched as the writing before me blurred. It became indecipherable, smudges of black containing no meaning. Was this how he felt when he smoothed the parchment before him? No, he said he read, just not well. Did he require a teacher?

Another flight of fancy. Stupid Lucia. Should he require a teacher, it would not be me.

Haltingly, I began to read and slowly the words formed a story, and then a picture, and then I lost myself and remembered why I had loved this so.

A sudden hatred for my former husband assaulted me. He had stolen this from me. He had taken my books, and he had taken my studies and had made me forget. He had taken so much and I, fool that I was, had let him.

Marcus watched me as I read, and it was as if the years that had passed had never happened. I read the words and he again listened, his eyes level upon me as I told him of our myths, our legends. I was again a foolish girl, infatuated with a slave.

The parchment ended and the words faded and now I could only stare at him, as he stared at me, and the silence between us was somehow full.

As if in a dream, I heard him speak. “I thought you were gone.” His words were airy, light, and held no weight. “You were gone, Lucia. Your light, your warmth, everything. But then, with Aurelia…” He took a breath, and it shuddered through him. “You laughed. And I saw— It was you.”

His words filled me with… I was disturbed.

The dream ended. I stood. “I must go.”

Standing also, he looked already as if he regretted his words. “Of course.”

I did not want to go.

The thought formed in my mind, and I was terrified at what it meant. “I thank you for your hospitality. I—Aurelia and I thank you.”

He shrugged. “It is nothing.”

“It is not. It is something, and both Aurelia and I are thankful.” I, too, was surprised by my outburst.

He smiled, and the soft curve of it tugged at me. “In that case, Lucia, it has been my pleasure.”

I wanted to say something, but could think of no words. We stood, and neither of us moved.

The shrieking of children invaded his rooms. Aurelia. How could I have forgotten my daughter, even for a moment? “I must go. Aurelia—”

“I know.” His gentle smile warmed me.

I hesitated at his door. Before I left, there was one more truth I had to share. “I am not averse to your visits.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw his expression change shape. His smile faded to an almost-smile and I felt much at its appearance. “I am pleased it is so, domina.”

Still affected by his almost-smile, by its reappearance after so long, I gripped the edge of his door. “You may come tomorrow. If you wish.”

“I will. Lucia.”

I looked at him, and it was as if I could not tear myself away.

Eventually, though, I did. I left, collecting Aurelia from her new friends as I did so. As we left, I could not keep myself from looking back at him and memorising his almost-smile as we walked away.